


Hello

by Bre



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Angst, Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2015-12-09
Packaged: 2018-05-05 20:43:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5389568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bre/pseuds/Bre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU, one-shot. Felicity waits for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hello

**Author's Note:**

> ***Angst Warning!***
> 
> Posting this fic as a stand alone per request.
> 
> Guess what I was listening to on repeat over and over until the words have bled into my soul?
> 
> **[Hello by Adele](https://youtu.be/YQHsXMglC9A) **
> 
> (If you haven’t watched this video yet, watch it because it, along with the song, inspired this ficlet.)

Felicity stared at the front door.

She’d gotten there ten minutes ago, but the instant her foot had landed on the porch, the instant her eyes found the chipped stained glass he’d installed on the door when a storm had broken the original, when she saw the ornamental frame she’d picked out for the doorbell, when she saw the aged wood in the far corner, now even more worn down from years of abandonment, something they’d talked about replacing but never got around to it… she froze.

Felicity wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing her bare arms - she forgot how cold it go up there, at their little cabin, their special place.

Their home.

It was the anniversary, and just like she had for the last four years, Felicity came to their house.

And waited.

For him.

_“Let’s never sell this place,” he whispered, nuzzling his face into the sensitive spot between her neck and shoulder. Felicity sighed in contentment and turned to him with a quiet hum, pressing her lips to his temple. “It’ll always be ours, no matter what. If something happens, we’ll always have this spot.”_

_“Sounds like something that happens in a cheesy romance movie,” Felicity said before giggling. “That’s very Notebook.”_

_He let out an amused growl and rolled on top of her, the sheet tangling in their naked legs._

_“How else am I going to win you back?” he asked as Felicity wrapped her arms around him, kissing him in-between words. “If we don’t have a place to meet?”_

Happy endings for them were few and far between. They’d spent more time arguing and making up than living a peaceful life with each other, pushing each other to the brink and back, over and over until they inevitably snapped. She’d hated it as much as she’d loved it. It was a relationship of passion, as her mother had described it, one that few people found, one that even fewer were able to keep.

They struggled with that part, keeping each other.

It was only because of the amount of time since she’d last seen him that she was able to see it more clearly…

_“Oliver, wait, please,” she begged, raising her voice to he heard through the downpour. She grabbed his arm but he yanked it out of her grasp as he walked away from her. “Don’t do this. Please.”_

_“Just go, Felicity,” he snapped over his shoulder and Felicity grabbed for him again, trying to lace her fingers through his but he pulled away, shaking his head._

_“Oliver!”_

_“Felicity, stop!” He looked back at her, his face marred with anger and resolve. “I’m done, okay? I’m just…_

_“I’m done.”_

They’d been so young when they met, when they’d fallen in love, and they were both ridiculously stubborn and foolhardy when it came to their hearts. They’d been each other’s first loves, and they’d both fallen _hard_. They loved with their entire beings, and they’d given each other everything, the good _and_ the bad. She’d _known_ , when met him her first weekend at MIT, she’d known he was it.

They got married, they bought a house. They bought their cabin when Felicity sold her company and they’d even talked about getting a dog…

_“Maybe we should start with a fish.”_

_“… Why?”_

_“Well, when Diggle and Lyla went out of town and you said you’d watch their plants, most of them died.”_

_“They did not.”_

_“Those were some sad looking plants, Felicity.”_

_“Yeah, they were sad because they had to keep staring at your naked butt every time you came with me. So really, that was your fault.”_

And children. They talked about children a lot, how many they wanted, names and the kind of life they wanted to give them.

But it never happened.

And it never would.

_“What do you want, Felicity?”_

_“I want you to get out!” Felicity shouted, throwing the closest thing she could find at him. His keys hit him squarely in the chest with a loud thump and the sound made her feel better, almost irrationally better, like a tension bubble had finally popped, and she wanted more._

_She picked up his wallet and threw it, followed by the mail pile and a book and a plate…_

_“Goddamn it, Felicity…!”_

_“No, Oliver!” Felicity clenched her jaw to stop it from trembling as she glared at him, biting the inside of her lip to keep her tears at bay. He wouldn’t see her cry. She was done crying. “I don’t want to do this anymore. I can’t do this anymore, I want you out. Out of this room, out of this house, out of my life!”_

_“You want me gone?” Oliver asked, laughing without a trace of humor, his eyes black with emotion as he stooped down, snatching his keys and wallet before grabbing his jacket. “Fine. I’m gone.”_

A giant gush of air whipped around the corner, nearly knocking her down.

Felicity braced herself, gritting her teeth against the icy cold slicing through her t-shirt.

With a final second of hesitation, she pushed the memories down and walked up to the front door. Felicity knelt down, sliding her finger behind the cracked jamb.

The key was still there.

Felicity unlocked the door slowly and stepped in, shutting it behind her.

Like she was in a vacuum, it was suddenly deathly silent.

The house was dusty and dark, almost dank. He hadn’t been up there, just like she hadn’t been. The only time she came was on this anniversary, when she waited.

She always waited for him.

But he never came.

Would he come this time?

Felicity wasn’t sure how long she stood in the entryway, staring at the stairs, memories flooding her - they’d made love on the stairs more times than she could count, because they never made it upstairs; she’d tried cooking for him more than he probably would’ve liked and she’d always run out of the kitchen in pajama bottoms, carrying the pan holding her burnt omelet, a fork at the ready for him to taste; they always hugged, right there, when it was time to leave, to return back to reality, almost like they were saying goodbye to the house itself; their arguments got louder at the base of the stairs, always, because one of them inevitably went up them while the other stayed on the landing, raising their voice louder to be heard - when she heard a car.

Panic seized her, adrenaline flooding her limbs as Felicity inhaled too quickly. She coughed as the dust hit her already dry throat, coating her mouth, and the hacks rattled her to the bone before she grew silent.

She strained her ears.

A car, and it was pulling up into the drive, the one next to the house.

Felicity was frozen in place, her hand covering her mouth, wide eyes on the window bank overlooking the field. The driveway was right under that window. How many times has she looked out when he got back from an errand or when he met her up there? How many times had she looked out those windows, waiting to see the top of his head, to know it was him coming home.

The car door opened and she held her breath.

It was him.

“Oh god,” she whispered, tears blurring her vision. She heard him shut the driver door, moving a few paces over to open the rear door. He disappeared for a second, reaching in to get something before he reappeared… and then he was making his way around the house.

Felicity trembled as she slowly spun, her feet kicking up the dust littering the floor, watching him in her mind’s eye as he made his way to the front of the house. As he got closer to the front door, she heard his voice - her eyes slipped shut for just a second, just a quick second, _reveling_ … He was on the phone. She couldn’t hear his words, but the low rumble of his voice, she remembered that very well.

And she _missed_ it, god, she missed it.

“I’m here, so I’ll…” His words were barely audible before she caught him saying, “Okay, yeah. Thank you. I’ll talk to you later.”

Felicity shuddered, a bubble filling her chest.

It’d been so long.

He hung up.

The wooden porch groaned, and he paused, just like she had. Felicity stared at him through the stained glass - the colored, irregular glass distorted his figure, making him appear jagged and uneven where he hesitated on the stairs. She could see he was wearing a heavy coat, large boards tucked under his arm.

Just seeing him like that, as he was, it was enough, and she sighed.

“Oliver,” she whispered, a tear slipping down her cheek.

Like her voice broke through whatever he was thinking, he was suddenly moving, the soft jingle of his keys the only thing besides his heavy footsteps sounding. He still had his key on his keyring, and the thought made her smile - laugh, even - reminding her how often she’d lost hers before he’d finally said they’d just hide hers, since she’d always beat him up there on Friday nights.

How many nights had he found her sitting on the front porch, waiting for him? How many times had he paused at the bottom, cocking his head with that stupid smile on his face, his eyes taking in her usually very lacking clothes, and she’d just sit there, waiting for him to say it…

_“I didn’t know it was my birthday.”_

_Felicity rolled her eyes, unable to stop the smile those words always brought to her lips. “Just open the door, Oliver.”_

He unlocked the door.

She unwittingly took a few steps back, wrapping her arms around her middle as he let it swing open. Felicity ran into the banister at the base of the stairs, biting her lip to keep herself quiet as he stepped in, bundled in a thick winter jacket, a scarf wrapped around his neck, the door falling shut behind him.

They didn’t move.

He was older, more lines around his eyes, around  his mouth - they weren’t laugh lines. His face was hard and blank as he looked around, his eyes sliding right past her without an ounce of recognition.

That was the only reason she didn’t move to him, didn’t say anything.

He looked past her as if she wasn’t even there.

And it hurt just as much as it had the last time she’d seen him, the tiny glimpse she’d been afforded.

Pain tore through her as a flood of tears blurred him, turning him into a faceless black hole.

He took a shaky breath, setting down the boards he’d brought in before yanking his scarf off, unzipping his coat.

He was silent, not saying a word, and she followed suit, staying right where she was, not saying a thing.

Felicity blinked, a hot tear slipping down her cheek as her vision cleared enough for her to see him pulling his jacket off. He turned to the stand they had next to the door, the one she’d almost broken shoving into her Mini when they’d bought it. He paused, staring at it, like he didn’t want to touch it. He finally clenched his jaw and hung the jacket up.

His shoulders were bigger, more broad. His hair was shorn close to the scalp, making him look severe as he turned back to face her.

He still didn’t say anything.

“Oliver,” she said, his name coming out in a forced choke, but he didn’t respond.

He closed his eyes, pain twisting his face.

He turned away from her, stepping into the living room.

A sob built in her chest, tearing its way up her throat as she watched him go.

She didn’t move, shifting slightly, her shoulder sliding along the edge of the banister until she could push her face against the wood.

Felicity took in a quick breath, the oxygen burning its way down into her lungs, more tears slipping down her cheeks.

They were so hot and she was so cold.

A heavy swoop sounded from the living room as Oliver yanked the drop cloths off the furniture. Felicity rested her forehead against the cool wood, listening as he made his way through the space, small clouds of dust floating into the entryway. She heard him rolling them up, dropping them in the corner; heard the rasp of his fingers as he touched the couch; the soft clink of a picture frame being picked up… and then he was moving on, into the kitchen… into the dining room… all the way through the house, like he was re-familiarizing himself with it.

Felicity didn’t move.

She just listened to him as he silently made his way through the house.

She didn’t move when he reappeared behind her.

He didn’t touch her.

He stepped around her and went upstairs, his back stiff, his arms heavy at his side, his movements robotic, almost like he was on autopilot.

Felicity stayed right where she was, holding herself, fighting back more tears as she listened to him go upstairs, to his heavy tread as he made his way down the hall.

It’d been one of her favorite things about the house, how old it was, how you could hear every little thing - the way it creaked and settled at night, how it groaned during a bad storm, when Oliver got out of the shower, when she slipped on her fluffy socks at the top of the stairs… the house had a life of its own, something neither of them had ever experienced before; it was a life that added to theirs, a life that only made theirs better.

But now it was just an echo, a sad, sad echo.

Felicity opened her eyes when she heard the telltale whine from their office door opening.

Her eyes found the boards he’d brought in.

Felicity inhaled sharply, and this time she couldn’t stop the tears; she couldn’t stop the pain slicing her open from the inside as she stared at the bright red ‘For Sale’ letters sprawled across the top of the sign on top, highlighting the folded up boxes stacked underneath it.

He was selling it.

He was selling their house.

The sob she’d been fighting tumbled out of her and she covered her mouth, bowing her head as more sobs wracked her frame. Her shoulders shook with the force of them, her muffled cries filling the empty space around her, tears slipping over her fingers. She leaned against the banister, gripping it tightly - it was the only thing that was keeping her standing.

He was selling it.

_No…_

The sound of something crashing to the floor upstairs broke through her sobs and she froze, eyes flying up to where he’d disappeared.

She was moving before she knew what she was doing. Felicity gripped the sturdy wood, keeping her hand on the railing as she made her way up.

She hadn’t been upstairs, not since the last time they’d both been there, together. She always stayed downstairs, _always_ , never venturing out of the only place that didn’t remind her of everything they’d had, everything they could’ve had.

But that was where he was.

And she wasn’t going to let him do it alone.

Their pictures were still up on the walls of the upstairs hallway, interspersed with family pictures. The Queen Christmas party where Thea was making bunny ears behind Felicity; more than a few from when they’d visited her mother in Las Vegas, including a picture with a Santa Elvis who’d let his hand drift a little too far down Oliver’s backside, much to his chagrin.

There were pictures of them around the house, in their old apartment, on their wedding day, at the beach, at his graduation, in front of her new company storefront…

They felt like chalky glimpses into a life that had once been; they were so full, their entire life posted around the house, snapshots of moments that she never wanted to forget… but at the same time, they were so empty, because it was all gone.

He was still in their office.

He was dialing the phone.

Felicity gripped the doorjamb as she looked into the office.

Her papers were still scattered everywhere, just as she’d left them. Nothing had changed.

She only had eyes for him.

He stood at the window overlooking the small lake - the window was dusty and dirty from years of disuse. He was hunched over the small desk where they kept an old pea-soup green rotary phone, something he’d found at a garage sale, one she’d hated until he got it working.

She could hear the other side ringing, and then the voicemail picked up.

Felicity’s breath hitched when she heard who it was.

“Hey,” he said, his voice cracking, and the sound of his voice sent a rain of sharp shivers cascading down her spine.

It’d been so long.

She gripped the doorjamb tighter, staring at him. His shoulders were low where he was stooped over, his finger absently drawing in the dust littered across the table.

“God,” he breathed, his voice harsh and uncoordinated, like he was having a hard time stringing the words together. “You have no idea how amazing it is to hear your voice. I… it’s been so long, since I’ve been here, and I didn’t… I couldn’t…

“I miss you…

“God, I miss you so much, I can’t even breathe and I…”

A tear slipped down her cheek, landing on her shirt.

He took a shaky breath and she finally noticed he was staring at something on the desk.

A picture frame.

“Felicity…”

He hung up the phone abruptly, his head dropping, shaking with a silent sob.

“Oliver,” Felicity whispered, already stepping into the office, her hand reaching out to comfort him, but he was moving, picking the picture up and leaving through the side door, the door that led to their bedroom. She followed him, only pausing when she saw the bottom drawer of her filing cabinet on the floor, the contents spilled everywhere.

The deed to the house was first and foremost but tucked underneath it was their wedding certificate.

Her heart broke, more tears blurring her vision, before she stepped over, and walked into their bedroom.

The instant she stepped over the threshold, she couldn’t _breathe_.

This was why she never came up here. This space, this perfect space that had been theirs - nothing had changed, not a single thing. The bed was still unmade from the last time they’d slept in it, his shoes were still sitting at the foot of the bed, her tank top in a rumpled pile on her side; the book she’d been reading was still on her nightstand, her glasses case right next to it; he still had a glass of water on his side.

The water had long ago evaporated, leaving a dusty imprint, a cobweb inside it.

Nothing had changed.

_Nothing_.

He was at her dresser, staring at something taped to the mirror.

“Oliver?” she asked.

She was shaking, she was shaking so badly.

She was almost there, she was almost touching him when he cracked, falling apart right before her eyes.

He leaned forward, his forehead falling against the taped paper, a heart-wrenching sob slipping past his lips.

“Oliver,” Felicity whispered desperately. “Oliver… please.”

His sobs tore through her as he slipped down to the ground, the picture frame cradled to his chest. He pushed himself against the wall, curling in on himself as he cried - cried for her, for them. The despair radiating off him sliced into her, his face twisted in such agony Felicity felt like she was being ripped to pieces as he gripped the frame until his fingers were white, his other hand covering his face.

Her obituary was taped to the mirror, a thin column cut out of the local newspaper.

Her picture was at the top, one of her laughing - she remembered that picture, she remembered the day it had been taken; it was from their engagement photos, one of the few the photographer had caught of her on her own. Oliver had been out of frame and she’d just thrown a bundle of leaves in his face, making him sputter…

It talked about her life, her achievements, her career and the people she’d known… and those she’d left behind - her mother and her husband, Oliver.

It talked about the car accident, the drunk driver who’d hit her the day after her final argument with Oliver.

She’d died on the side of the road, four years ago that day, whispering his name.

“I’m sorry,” Oliver whispered, over and over, gasping for air between sobs as he tried to fend them off, for a second’s reprieve, for a moment to breathe, but they were too powerful, and the pained sounds he made ripped her apart as he said, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

“Shh,” Felicity whispered, crouching next to him, reaching for him. “Shh.”

He couldn’t feel her. She knew this, just as much as she knew she wouldn’t be able to feel him, but that didn’t stop her from cupping his face, from remembering with a vivid alacrity how he’d felt under her fingers, how his rough stubble had scratched her palm, how he leaned into her touch when she scraped her nails along his jawline, how his eyes would close when she whispered his name, pulling his face to hers for a kiss…

“Felicity,” Oliver sobbed, shoving his palm against his forehead as he looked down at the frame.

It was a picture of both of them, a failed selfie. He was behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist, and just as she’d clicked the button, he’d started tickling her, lifting her up on her feet. It captured the moment perfectly, with her in mid-laugh, his grinning face tucked into her neck.

They’d been so happy. It hadn’t been easy, their road fraught with more than a few obstacles, but they’d always made it.

Always.

Oliver’s fingers trembled as he traced them over her face, following the lines of her smile.

One of his tears landed on the dusty frame, sliding down, leaving a wet trail through the dirt.

“I miss you so much, Felicity, I can’t…”

“Oh, Oliver,” Felicity breathed as he choked out another sob.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, squeezing his eyes shut. “I’m sorry.”

“Shh…”

This time when Felicity touched him, she thought she felt _something_. It was a spark, a tiny spark, and the first warmth she’d felt in _years_ spread through her, making her gasp - it was so warm, so, so warm; she’d forgotten how warm she’d been when she’d been alive - and she moved her hand, cupping his face even more.

As if he could feel it too, Oliver’s sobs slowly subsided.

He took a stilted breath… and then he leaned closer to her.

Felicity leaned into him, hovering over him, wrapping her arms around him, pulling him closer to rest his face against her chest.

He couldn’t know she was there, he couldn’t possibly, but… but somehow there was _something_.

Oliver’s eyes slipped shut as he sagged against the wall, letting out a deep breath as if it were his last.

For a split second, a quick, tiny second, they were both there, they were together again.

“I love you so much, Oliver,” Felicity whispered, pushing her face to the top of his head.

She couldn’t smell him anymore, she couldn’t feel him… all she felt was the strange warmth, like his presence was slowly sinking into her.

They both sighed.

He felt it too.

“Felicity…”

She had no idea how much time passed, how long he sat there, how long the warmth lasted before it slowly started to fade.

“No,” she gasped, shaking her head… but it was slipping away.

Oliver shifted, feeling it too, his body tensing, like he was preparing for it.

“I’m waiting for you, Oliver,” she said, closing her eyes. “I’m waiting… I’ll be here. Always.”

“I love you,” he breathed. “I miss you so much.”

“I’m here. I’m always here…”

“Felicity…”

As she faded away along with the feeling, her body slowly disappearing, Felicity cupped his face and pressed her lips to his.

“I love you…”

*

As the strange warmth slowly dissipated, Oliver felt like he could actually _breathe_ again.

For the first time in four years, for the first time since he’d gotten the call, the call that had for all intents and purposes ended his life as abruptly as hers had ended, Oliver felt peace.

It was  warmth he hadn’t felt since she’d been alive, and a light deep inside him sparked back to life, slowly eradicating the darkness he’d been living in for such a long time.

He’d see her again

She was waiting for him.

For the first time in years, Oliver smiled.

“Felicity…”

She was there. He didn’t know how he knew it, or if it was even possible… but it was undeniable. His Felicity was there.

Oliver closed his eyes, reveling in the warmth for just a second longer before he whispered, “Thank you.”

The End

**Author's Note:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/132500590494/ficlet-hello-olicity-au)
> 
> The message in this song doesn’t really fit with Olicity, damn it, so I made it fit. 
> 
> I hope you guys liked it, reviews literally feed my soul and muse - thank you for reading!


End file.
